In an unnamed Latin American country, at the Vice-President’s house, a birthday party has been thrown for a Japanese businessman named Katsumi Hosokawa, in the hope that he will invest in the failing state. Hosokawa loves opera and so, to entice him, the world-renowned soprano Roxane Coss has been invited to sing. After several songs, amid applause, the lights go out. A troop of armed terrorists, who have been hiding in the pipes, burst out and seize the house. Like the guests, they are entranced by Coss’s voice — which gives a name to the novel that opens with these events: Ann Patchett’s Bel Canto.
The terrorists’ intention had been to kidnap the President but, at the last moment, he had cried off and stayed at home to watch his favourite soap-opera. So instead, the terrorists put all the guests — later whittled down to just the men and Coss — under house-arrest. What follows is the slow unfurling of life under siege, or what Alex Clark described as “long stretches of incarcerated ennui.”
Though I had been held hostage by germs not guerrillas — and with my family, not strangers — this mood felt familiar when I picked up Bel Canto over the summer. Incarcerated ennui is one way of describing our basic shared state during lockdown. The four months that the hostages remain in the vice-presidential house, largely confined to a single room, is in one sense present “a vast ocean of time” for the hostages, who are:
largely unfamiliar with the concept of free time. The ones who were very rich stayed at their offices late into the evening. They sat in the backseats of cars and dictated letters while their drivers shepherded them home. The ones who were young and very poor worked just as hard albeit at a different kind of work.
But, “now a great, unfamiliar idleness had fallen on them.”
Hosokawa starts to learn Spanish, committing himself to memorising ten nouns a day and one verb, fully conjugated. His diligence reminded me of those (economically privileged) people who responded to the novelty of lockdown by conjuring sourdough starters and gardening. So many of us found solace in the reassuring rhythms of repetitive projects; perhaps they reminded us of school. Indeed, there was a childlike enthusiasm — among the childless, at least — to make the most of the first lockdown.
Confinement turns Patchett’s hostages into children, too: it gives them time to play, to learn about themselves. One of the teenage hostages turns out to have a very good operatic voice. Tetsuya Kato, a slightly built, greying numbers man at Hosokawa’s company, is revealed to be an exquisite pianist and Coss’s natural accompanist. Ruben Iglesias, the Vice-President, discovers that he “had been taken care of for too long,” and derives great satisfaction from becoming everyone’s houseboy. “Perhaps he had been useful in society,” he reflects, but “he had received no domestic training.” Lockdown domesticated many hitherto high-flying yet impractical individuals, just as, for Ruben, “it had taken a state of captivity to force him to figure out the operation of his own washer and dryer.” There was a choice involved, though: “Of course Ruben could have let it all go … He could have watched the carpets molder in pools of spilled soda pop and stepped around the trash.” How many of us were tempted, to do just that?
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SubscribeI don’t think I will ever care for the terrorists who are holding the world hostage.
Stockholm syndrome?
WHO Director-General Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus “It’s completely understandable that people want to get on with their lives, but we will not be going back to the old normal.” They know what they are doing.
“The terrorists’ intention had been to kidnap the President”
Why? It never says. Much like this covid response, the West bankrupted, Rights and freedom irrevocably (I assume) removed, essentially Martial law imposed on a once free people. Business people worked a lifetime creating, generations sometimes, destroyed at the stroke of an unelected bureaucrat’s pen. Prisoners released en-mass, law abiding citizens locked up in their hundreds of millions. Rioting left unchecked wile not wearing a mask criminalized. Education destroyed for the youth, which will never be made up. Millions of long term medical crises left un-diagnosed, mental health and substance abuse skyrocketed – and on top; internal passports required, and only by submitting to medical experiments will they be issued.
And as every study (none done officially – such studies are actively suppressed) suggests – all this harm only to have worse results than if mere personal responsibility had been taken.
The fate of the Kidnappers is not mentioned. Justice would require those who did this same thing to the entire West (barring North Dakota and Sweden) should face some similar kind of sanction, what ever it was.
Basic boredom shines through this article. It seems like only those who really have (or had) a life under normal circumstances unambigously prefer it to lockdown.
“In an unnamed Latin American country, at the Vice-President’s house, …”
— so any old Latin American country can be imagined. Poor old Latin America. It’s not Brazil though, as Hosokawa takes up Spanish. I think residence is a better word than house.
“After several songs, amid applause, the lights go out. A troop of armed terrorists, who have been hiding in the pipes, burst out and seize the house.”
— The pipes? What pipes? The soprano’s pipes? Well, of course the lights would go out. Power cuts happen all the time in a failing state. The troop … the … troop of armed terrorists? Did they trot in in formation? They did not even probably have to bother finding the fuse box.
“Like the guests, they are entranced by Coss’s voice – …”
— Well, if only the ones now in charge in a certain country in Asia Minor that shall remain unnamed could fall for the charms of the opera and the lady’s voice. If only they and their troops could, then we’d be going places. They may be nice, but they’re not as nice as the guys depicted in this book.
“The terrorists’ intention had been to kidnap the President, but, at the last moment, he had cried off and stayed at home to watch his favourite soap-opera.”
— It sounds as if the President would have been the only one quick enough, with enough wit, had he not apparently cried off, to make good his escape at the moment the terrorists lost momentum in their becoming quite suddenly entranced by the soprano.
“So instead, the terrorists put all the guests — later whittled down to just the men and Coss — under house-arrest. What follows is the slow unfurling of life under siege, or what Alex Clark described as ‘long stretches of incarcerated ennui.’”
— Whittled down? Taken out? Of the equation? How can a group of people be under house-arrest and under siege at the same time? Terrorists don’t have the authority to place someone under house-arrest, moreover. They are a gang, not a governmental authority. Who’s Alex Clark?
A little aside:
“Why should I employ both of you, Mr Hardy and Mr Laurel? You both seem to have done nothing in the first four months of this year?”
“Well, you see, I and my companion Stan suffered through a long bout of … incarcerated ennui. We could do nothing about it.”
“Yes, Ollie, you see we were bored silly and did nothing. It was a horrible thing. We were first diagnosed with couch potato syndrome, but then it was found that we were suffering incarcerating ennui. Isn’t that right, Ollie?”
“Wh…, there you have it!”
“Though I had been held hostage by germs not guerillas — …”
— Held hostage? Confined. Guerillas? Pests! House guests and pests, you are talking about.
Why do the cultured go to such lengths to excuse their great time to themselves? Why do they go to great lengths to dress up time? I recall the days before double-glazing became common when I stared at raindrops, no, condensation it was, trickling down window panes. Trickling in zig-zag fashion, I might add. It was … cool. Actually something to do. And I’m not ashamed to say it. Nobody need feel guilty for doing absolutely nothing.
I want to read the book now.
What the writer doesn’t say is, is the novel any good? I read ‘The Dutch House’ by the same author as we (Book Club) had heard good things about her. We were disappointed. Very interesting start to the book but never gained much traction. Would try another, to give her the chance of redemption. Anyone else read her?